


Demonstrations

by Notmarysue



Series: PoPS 30 Day Prompt challenge [7]
Category: The Platoon of Power Squadron (Web Series)
Genre: Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Gen, Light Angst, Pre-Series, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 12:16:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11967204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notmarysue/pseuds/Notmarysue
Summary: It's a sad fact of life that things always work fine until you want to show them to somebody.PoPS 30 Day Prompt Challenge Day 7: 'I'm so sorry! It worked just fine before!'





	Demonstrations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EverythingHurtsAndImDying](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverythingHurtsAndImDying/gifts).



> Yeah I don't know either. Just sit back and take a shot every time I use the word 'mother'
> 
> As always if you're finding this in the tags and want to know what this PoPS thing is all about copy this into your search bar and start watching: https://youtu.be/solv0G2UQcs

A life with powers was a life of secrecy, Jonas knew this is. From the moment he discovered what he could do he decided that he could be the only one to know. This, however, wasn't a burden a child could bare easily. In fact, it was virtually impossible. He'd tried his best. He spent hours at school distracted by invasive thoughts and lying to guidance councilors. He struggled through sleepless nights, listened in on his parents talking about how the town was no longer safe, how too many people were going missing. Naturally, it wasn't something he could keep quiet forever. Months passed, months of increasingly suspicious silence. Months of trying to figure things out on his own and losing control more times than he cared to mention. Finally, at the age of thirteen, exactly one year after he discovered his powers, he gave up. Somebody had to know the truth.

He'd sat his mother down in the living room and slammed a tiny mug down on the coffee table so hard they were surprised it didn't shatter. There was a well lined out plan. One person at a time he would give his family a demonstration of his powers. Something small, something he could easily control, and he took as many safety procedures as he could think of. It was a risky move, he knew that, but it was better than simply explaining. Nobody could deny what they saw with their own two eyes. He decided to do it one at a time so he could answer as many questions as possible without getting overwhelmed. Starting with his mum seemed like the best plan. It would not only get the hardest part out of the way but she was the least likely to hand him over to the authorities. A mother's love is supposed to be unconditional after all.

For fifteen minutes they'd sat there. Jonas becoming increasingly infuriated, his mother becoming increasingly confused. She watched as her only child, a child that had treated her like a stranger for the past year, got frustrated at seemingly nothing. Eventually, she had to speak out.

"Jonas sweetie, what exactly are you trying to do?" She asked sweetly. She spoke to him as if he was a toddler, as if he was a three-year-old lost in a world of his imagination. She half hoped that's what it could all be chalked down to, an over active imagination. Perhaps it was some sort of stress related regression. She could sort of understand that, she could find the appropriate treatments for that, but as it stood she had no idea how she was supposed to respond.

"You'll see. Just wait" he insisted. He didn't get it. Every other time he'd wanted to use his powers they'd come to him with ease. Heck, plenty of times he didn't want to use his powers they'd come to him with ease. It had to be the one time when it important he couldn't do it. He could swear someone somewhere had planned this and they were laughing. 

"Why are you facing away from me?" she continued, changing her approach to sound a harsher. She wasn't entirely sure what she hoped to achieve by doing so. Maybe if she tried every parenting technique in the book there would be a break through of some description.

"So if I lose control I'll be much less likely to hurt you" that was one of the safety procedures he'd so expertly decided on. The others were making the demonstration as small as possible and an additional reason for showing one person at a time. It was cruel, he was wildly aware of that, but it was better to risk losing one family member than all of them. 

"Lose control of what?" Her questions seemed to have a domino effect, one rapidly leading to the other, and everyone only led to more confusion. 

"My powers" he snapped and for a moment it felt like he might get a spark. Sadly, nothing came of it. At long last, his mother gave in.

"Jonas" she sighed. He didn't respond. In fact, he was actively trying to block her out in an attempt to summon all of his focus and make the situation work. Unwilling to keep doing nothing she got up from the sofa, gently placed his hand on his shoulder, and physically turned him towards her. "Jonas I'm worried about you"

"You're not the only one" he muttered under his breath. 

"You've been acting strangely for months" she continued, pretending she didn't hear him. "Now I know things have been difficult since West disappeared" 

"He didn't-"

"But I want you to know that it wasn't your fault. I think maybe it's best we find a professional for you to talk to. Someone you can discuss these odd...ideas you have with" she explained.

"Mum I'm not making this up. Just wait, I can turn that cup into atoms" at least he prusumed that's what happened. He had to make a lot of assumptions.

"We'll talk about it when your father gets home" she nodded and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before leaving the room. He hated how she did that. How she pretended to listen, how she pretended to care. She didn't really, he was convinced of it, all she cared about was getting everything back to normal. He hated her, he hated himself, and when they got in contact with a so called 'professional' he was sure he would hate them to. He slung himself back against the sofa, angry and bitter, and watched as the cup crumbled softly to ashes just a few seconds too late.

**Author's Note:**

> Week 1 done. Can I go to sleep now?


End file.
